


Heaven Help A Fool Who Falls In Love

by pyrokinetic loser (commonghost)



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: But I hope you like it anyways, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, bronte and emery are so soft in this, i just die if i dont get my angst fix, i promise its actually pretty fluffy, okay listen i was listening to the ship playlist and the fic wrote itself, this isnt edited nearly as much as it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonghost/pseuds/pyrokinetic%20loser
Summary: Emery stepped closer to Bronte. “Well, if you insist on staying out here, may we at least have a dance?”Bronte almost took Emery’s offered hand before he looked back at the blinding light coming from the gala.“This is a bad idea.” Bronte’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but by the way Emery tensed ever so slightly, he’d definitely heard it.----A.K.A. Bronte has super shitty self-esteem and Emery is Concerned™
Relationships: Councillor Bronte/Councillor Emery (Keeper of the Lost Cities)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Heaven Help A Fool Who Falls In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [sleep-deprived disaster councillors being gay on a roof](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27670774) by [SemperAeternumQue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue). 



> I have no idea when this is set but it's not Lumeneria. I feel like it's sometime way before the main series. Anyway this is inspired by SemperAeternumQue's "sleep-deprived disaster councillors being gay on a roof" go read it it's so good.
> 
> anyways uhhh yeah here have bronte having Issues and emery being the best person ever.
> 
> also go listen to the brony playlist i made https://open.spotify.com/playlist/54OWHRfhW4SbkL1MrCedeZ?si=yNa2Hq9nST6ya2olKXOygg

Bronte stood in the castle gardens, the freezing wind undoing his hair and seeping through the many intricate layers of capes, vests, and tunics. The gala’s chatter and music slipped through the cracks in the walls, and even though he was far from any action, Bronte still felt a headache creeping in.

Or, at least, right up until Emery joined him. Every detail about him screamed perfection, from the jewel-encrusted cape covered in sapphires to his circlet.  
  


Bronte had never felt more out of place than in that moment. He never quite understood how he’d made it so far in the world, how he really _was_ a part of the Council, how he was considered as part of the people who had done nothing but made his life hell for a good hundred years, how-

“Are you not joining the festivities?” Emery’s deep voice shook Bronte back into reality.

“The music was giving me a headache.” Bronte replied. “I thought it would be better to leave before I inflicted on some poor soul and launched a full-on war.”

Emery laughed, despite Bronte’s tone indicating no humor whatsoever. Bronte didn’t exactly mind, though, he’d always loved Emery’s laugh.

Emery stepped closer to Bronte. “Well, if you insist on staying out here, may we at least have a dance?”

Bronte almost took Emery’s offered hand before he looked back at the blinding light coming from the gala.

“This is a bad idea.” Bronte’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but by the way Emery tensed ever so slightly, he’d definitely heard it.

“Please, Bronte?” Emery’s voice was almost pleading. “Nothing bad will happen.” 

“If even a single person sees us, Emery-”

“They won’t.” He sounded so sure Bronte almost felt his heart twist. When he saw Bronte didn’t believe him, he added, “Bronte, they _won’t_.”

“How can you be certain? Anyone could walk out into the gardens-” Bronte was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“They’re too busy celebrating inside. You’re the only person mad enough to step outside in this freezing weather, you know.” When Bronte didn’t laugh, Emery sighed. “Is it so bad to desire a single dance with the person I love?”

And to that, silence was about the only response Bronte could give. Emery didn’t seem inclined to keep talking, either, so the pair settled into the quietness surrounding them, the muted music coming from the castle and the rustling of leaves accompanying them.

But after a while, Bronte had to ask, “don’t you get it, Emery?”

“Get what?” The poor soul sounded genuinely confused. Bronte almost stayed quiet. Almost.

“We’re...we’re _never_ going to have a nice dance, Emery. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not the day after that. Not when people can see us.”

“Bronte-”

“Emery, _please_ try to understand.” Bronte was outright pleading by now, feeling a ball in his throat and desperately tried to push it down. “The world _hates us_ , whether it knows it or not. We’re not going to have a happy future, we’re not going to have a _dance_ , no matter how much we want to. _We’re not going to have a happy ending!_ ”

It had been the ugly truth the both of them wanted to ignore. The wind became so strong Bronte thought it might knock him to the ground. For now, all it did was undo the last few intricate braids woven into his hair.

“How do you know?” Emery’s voice was quiet. A lot more quiet than Bronte was used to hearing. “How do you know we won’t have a happy ending? How do you know we won’t have a nice future?”

“Because that’s how the world works, Emery. It holds no love or care for people like us.” Bronte felt his voice crack. He wished it didn’t have to be like this, he wished it could be easy. But it wasn’t, and they had to accept that.

“Can’t we change it?” Emery tried reaching for Bronte’s hand. 

Bronte pulled away as he answered, “how? We’re only two votes on the Council, Emery, and our focus right now is nowhere near this kind of topic. And how do you think it would look, the two of us bringing up all these ideas for equality for a people who’ve always been hated? We’d be stopped before we could even begin.”

“I...suppose you’re right, but it doesn’t have to happen _now_ -”

“It’ll take _centuries_ , Emery. Maybe even millenia.”

“If that’s how long it takes for me to tell you that I love you, then that’s how long I’m willing to wait.” As Emery’s eyes drifted to the castle once more, there wasn’t a hint of uncertainty to be found in his voice.

Still, Bronte couldn’t help but keep the derision out of his words as he turned back to watch the rest of the gala attendees through the windows and asked “you’d be willing to wait for centuries, stuck with someone like me?”

At that, Emery slowly turned back towards him, delicately brushing a strand of Bronte’s hair back behind his ears. “I’m not _stuck_ with you, Bronte. I _choose_ to be with you because _I love you_.” His voice was soft, almost concerned, and just barely a whisper.

And with that, Bronte's heart ached like it was determined to wrench itself out of his ribcage and spill over the tamed grass lawns. And Bronte couldn’t keep a few stray tears from spilling as he replied, “I...Emery, I love you too, but...this…this isn’t going to end well. You know that.” Bronte looked down at the ground, not capable of meeting Emery’s eyes.

“I don’t, Bronte. I really don’t.” Emery gently cupped Bronte’s face between his hands, tilting it up so that they were facing each other.

“But...how? How are you so determined? How are you so sure this is a good idea?” The words stumbled out of Bronte’s mouth. If Emery kept talking, Bronte would start believing him, would start believing that everything was going to end well when it wouldn’t and-

“Because _I love you!_ ” Emery lowered his voice again before continuing, “I keep telling you that, Bronte. Why do you not believe me?”

“I do believe you.” Even Bronte didn’t believe the words he was saying.

“No, you don’t. We both know that.” Emery didn’t seem angry, or annoyed, or even tired of him, he just seemed...concerned. And Bronte wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Concern was such a foreign emotion to see in someone’s face. But he was snapped out of his contemplation by Emery’s voice as he added, “but I want to know why you don’t believe I love you.”

“Because it makes everything harder.” Bronte swallowed back a sob. He knew _he_ loved Emery, that much was clear, but it was too hard to imagine that Emery loved him back.

“Does it?” The skepticism in Emery’s voice was about as obvious as it could get.

Bronte nodded. “Yes. It does.”

“Okay.” Emery said, uncupping Bronte’s face to swipe at another stray tear streaming down Bronte’s cheeks. But Bronte knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and his suspicions were correct as Emery added “Why?”

Bronte struggled to find the right words and knew his face was red when he replied “because you’re...perfect. And amazing. And beautiful. And smart and kind and-”

“And you’re not?” Emery tucked yet another strand of Bronte’s hair behind his ears. Gods, Bronte was a mess, wasn’t he?

“Just...haven’t you _seen_ me?” Bronte’s words almost begged Emery to understand what he was saying.

“I don’t get what you’re trying to say, Bronte.” Emery’s voice was soft again, in a way Bronte had trouble describing but that made him want to hold on to Emery and never let go.

“I-”

Bronte was saved from having to think of a reply when Emery cut him off again. “But if you’re saying you’re _not_ amazing and beautiful and smart and kind, then I’m going to have to stop you before you can even say a single word.” Emery took a small shaky breath, his hand still lingering on Bronte’s face, before adding on, “and if you’re saying you’re not deserving of love, then I need you to know that you _are_. I love you, Bronte, more than I’ll ever be able to fully describe. And you deserve the feelings I have towards you. You deserve to be loved and appreciated, and don’t try to tell or convince me otherwise.”

“But-”

“No, Bronte. Didn’t I say not to tell me otherwise?” There was a hint of humor in Emery’s voice, but neither of them laughed, and Emery’s tone returned to serious as he continued. “You are deserving of love and happiness, and I _will_ keep telling you that every day until you believe it.”

A beat of silence passed before Bronte whispered “okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.” Bronte was barely holding back from full-on crying as he continued, “I- I’ll believe you.”

“You promise?” Emery’s voice went lower than the rest of the conversation combined, and Bronte almost did a double take. He’d never realized how serious Emery was about this before. And Bronte didn’t want to let him down, even if he wasn’t sure if he could really live up to what Emery was asking.

“I don’t know if I can promise I’ll _really_ believe you, but I promise to try.” Was Bronte’s compromise.

It was worth it when an impossibly warm smile spread across Emery’s face. “Thank you. I promise that we’ll have a happy ending. I _promise_.”

And in that moment, Bronte let himself believe those words for what might have been the first time.


End file.
